Update to the Update
by Dianora
Summary: This fic is for THE OFFICE UK. Not the US version! Tim and Dawn, three years later.


"Come on in, we're back in the kitchen." The camera tracks Tim as he walks down a short hallway into a modest kitchen, brightly lit with natural wood cabinets and yellow counters. He whistles tunelessly and picks up his half-drunk cup of coffee from the kitchen table.

Dawn is seated at the table, eyeing a half-built gingerbread house with a mixture of combination and defeat in her eyes. "Mum volunteered me to make this for her church fair," she explains to the camera, "because I'm 'the artistic one.' Apparently illustrating is the next closest thing to gingerbread house construction." One wall of the gingerbread house falls over and breaks in two. Dawn looks down at it, then back up at the camera, fighting a smile.

"So you've become an illustrator, then?" the interviewer asks.

"Well I don't know that you can call me an 'illustrator,'" she says, using air quotes and rolling her eyes. "I've, um, done the illustrations for two children's books, _Pots On in the Kitchen_ and _Harry the Friendly Water Buffalo_."

"And they're bloody brilliant," Tim puts in. "Sales were so good they want her to do another one."

"They maybe want me to do another one," Dawn says. "But I also have, um, temp work, that I do, to bring in some extra quid for rent and whatnot."

"I've told you, Dawn, I need to be able to have caviar and champagne every night, and if that means your having to occasionally work for a living, then so be it," Tim says, peering at her over the rim of his mug. She snorts a laugh and bites into a gumdrop that's supposed to be for the gingerbread house.

"Sure, the response to the follow-up special was…surprising," Tim says. "I suddenly went from being the pathetic loser who didn't get the girl to being the guy who…did. And, um, that was quite nice." He tilts his head, smiles. "But doing our own reality show? That's --" He opens his mouth, looks from side to side, sits back. "That's mad. Just mad. It's crazy enough that you're wanting to film this update, apparently the people of Britain are desperate for entertainment.

"No, I don't regret our turning the series offer down. The money would have been nice -- okay, the money would have been _fantastic_ -- but it just wasn't for us. The good thing, though, is that because of the sketch of me that was on the show, on the update show, Dawn started getting called for illustration work, so that's -- that's really the best possible outcome, isn't it?"

Tim is trying to help Dawn with the gingerbread house. "Maybe if you ice the sides first -- no, like -- no, not like that, like this --" Tim grabs a piece, smears icing all over one side. "Oh."

"What are you doing?" Dawn asks. "Stop it, just --" She breaks off as Tim smears icing down her nose. Her eyes widen, then she sticks her fingers in the tub of icing and scoops out a dollop. He gets up from the table and runs as she pulls her arm back to throw. When she rises from her chair to follow him, her pregnant belly precedes her.

"We don't know if it's a boy or a girl," Dawn says. "We decided to let it be a surprise. Of course, that means we have to fight over twice as many names.

"If it's a girl, we'll probably name her either Rose, or Althea -- that's Tim's gran's name. If it's a boy -- we haven't decided that, actually. I like to tell Tim we should call him Gareth." There is a mischievous gleam in her eye. "After all, it's such a strong name. Heroic, really." She finally gives in to a giggle.

"Tim."

"Yes, Gareth." Tim doesn't look up at his gangly boss hovering behind him, keeps his eyes on his computer screen.

"I need to speak to you about the Christmas party," Gareth says. He glances nervously at the camera, then away again.

"What is it?" Tim asks, still not looking around.

"Is Dawn coming?"

"Yes, Gareth."

"And she's still pregnant, then?"

Tim raises his eyebrows; he clearly can't wait to see where this is going. "Yes, she is."

"Well I just hope you know we don't have any room in the budget for any exotic foodstuffs. Crisps and candy and that's about it."

Now Tim does turn around to look up at Gareth. "What in God's name are you talking about?"

"I know pregnant women get weird cravings," Gareth says defensively. "Pickles and ice cream. Raw meat. Beets."

Tim blinks. "Raw meat, Gareth? You think Dawn is going to want raw meat at the Christmas party?"

"I'm just saying that if she does," Gareth says, holding up a hand, "she's not going to get any, is she. She can take her insatiable need for raw flesh someplace else."

Tim looks at the camera, then back at Gareth. "I'll be sure to tell her that," Tim says. "No raw meat. Stand firm on that one."

"Good. And no sex in the break room, either."

Tim does a double take, looks at the camera again with an incredulous expression. "You think we're going to have sex in the break room during the party, with everyone we know on the other side of the window."

"Pregnant women get horny," Gareth says knowledgably. "Hormones. But I don't care. She can polish your knob on her own time."

"You're absolutely right, Gareth," Tim says with an innocent expression. "You are absolutely right. That's why you're the boss."

"That's right," Gareth says, unsure if he's being played or mollified. He appears to opt for the latter. "I'm glad that's settled."

"Me too," Tim says loudly. He turns away from Gareth and blows out his breath so hard that his bangs fly up.

"Yes, I'm still at Wernham Hogg," Tim says with a resigned smile. "It's for the best for now. They're, uh, okay with my taking night classes, and it's not like this is the kind of job where I have to bring work home with me, or give it any thought whatsoever outside of the office…or all that much thought _inside_ the office, really, so it works out well. This is my last term at school, so when I have my degree I'll look for something else.

"Would I stay at Wernham Hogg if I got a promotion? I…I don't know. I'm not going to leave Wernham Hogg until I have a firm offer of a teaching position in hand -- I can't just be out of work when I have a baby on the way. But if they gave me a promotion..." Tim trails off, sits back and narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "I don't know -- No. No way. Then again -- I don't know."

The sound of laughter fills the tiny dining room that's more of an alcove off of the kitchen, really, four people seated at the small wooden table: Tim and Dawn, and another couple, a tall man with curly brown hair and a shorter woman with sleek black hair and wire-rimmed glasses.

"So then I say, 'So you would do him from behind?', and he says, 'Yes, I would do him from behind if I had to. And it was just…it was brilliant, just brilliant." Everyone laughs as Tim finishes his story and takes a swallow of wine.

"He sounds like quite a character," the tall man with curly brown hair says.

"A character in a Fellini film, yes," Tim says.

"And he's really your boss?" the woman with wire-rimmed glasses says.

"Not for much longer," Dawn says. "When Tim's done with school he'll be fleeing the coop."

"Well, I hope so," Tim says.

"You know, Tim, I have a friend who's a teacher in Reading," the woman says. "I might be able to put you in touch with him, perhaps get a few tips, do a bit of networking."

"Would you?" Dawn says.

"Oh, that would be great, Nancy," Tim says. "Fantastic, really. Cheers."

"It's no problem," Nancy says. "Anything to have more teachers working, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Dessert," Dawn says.

"What?"

"I almost forgot about it," she says. "I bought a pie earlier --" She pushes back in her chair and starts to get up.

"I've got it," Tim says, getting to his feet. "Don't get up."

"It's fine, I can get it myself --"

"Don't be ridiculous," Tim says. "You and your enormous belly stay right where you are."

"As you can see, Tim is _quite_ the charmer," Dawn says to their guests. Tim kisses her on the top of her head on the way to the kitchen, and she smiles.

"Nancy wrote one of the books that I did illustrations for," Dawn explains. "The water buffalo one. We hit it off, so, um, Tim and I have gotten together with Nancy and her husband -- uh, his name is Dave -- a couple of times. It's quite nice…very adult." She smiles self-consciously. "Lee and I didn't really socialize much. Well, I should say Lee and I didn't socialize much together, he would go off with his mates and I would stay at home, and then once the pub closed he'd come back, drunk." She clears her throat. "Anyway, Tim loves having some mates who aren't David Brent, who he still takes to the pub once in a while out of…pity, I guess." Dawn realizes what she just said, nervously draws a strand of hair between her fingers. "Um, you're not going to show this part, are you?"

The office Christmas party is abuzz with low-energy activity. Keith is playing DJ and a few couples are dancing awkwardly together in the middle of the floor. Tim and Dawn are a nexus of attention as people keep stopping to remark on Dawn's condition and ask when the baby is due. Tim keeps a protective arm around Dawn's waist, gently easing her away every time someone tries to touch her belly. Gareth passes by periodically and gives Tim meaningful looks toward the break room, which Tim does his best to ignore.

Neil saunters up to them and wishes Dawn the best, then turns to Tim. "Tim, can I have a word?"

"Sure," Tim says, and with a questioning look at Dawn follows Neil over to a relatively quiet corner of the office.

"I know we've had this sort of conversation before," Neil says, "but it turns out that the manager of our Southampton branch is stepping down, and I think you'd be an excellent replacement for him."

Tim blinks. "What -- me? Really?"

"Absolutely. It would mean relocating, of course, but I think we could compensate you for moving expenses."

"Wow, that's -- that's very kind of you, mate. I don't know what to say."

"Well, I'm sure you'll have to discuss it with your wife, but I do hope you'll consider it."

"I will. Thank you," Tim says, shaking Neil's hand. He walks back to Dawn, who looks up at him curiously.

"What was that about?" she asks.

"I'll tell you later," he says, wrapping his arms around her. He looks pensive as he drops an absent kiss on her forehead. Gareth walks by and gives him a warning glare.

"I mean, I have to say no, don't I?" Tim says. "I'm almost done with school, I already have a contact who might be able to help me get a teaching job. On the other hand --" He scratches the back of his head. "It would mean more money, more stability. Potentially, a better life for my wife and my child." His eyes dim, and he looks away. Doesn't speak again.

"…and I'd get a commensurate salary increase, obviously," Tim says. They're seated at the kitchen table again, this time with cups of herbal tea in front of them. "So what do you think?"

Dawn dips her head, doesn't meet his eyes. "Whatever you think is best. It's your career, so…"

"Well, it's my career, but it's our life," Tim says, furrowing his brow.

"Yes but -- it should be your decision. Whatever you think is best," she repeats.

"Dawn, I'm not Lee," Tim snaps. "Don't say something because it's what you think I want to hear. I want to know -- I need to know what you really think, because I don't know what to do myself and I need honest, blunt advice from my wife and the mother of my child and I don't think that's too much to ask!" He lets out a breath, sits back in his chair. Embarrassment colors his face as he glances at the camera, then looks back at Dawn.

Dawn is staring down at her teacup as if it holds all the answers in the universe. "Then you should --" She pauses, clears her throat. "You should ask yourself if you want our child to be proud of you, and if you think our child would be proud of you for giving up on your dream when you wouldn't let me give up on mine." And with that, she gets up, slowly, and pads out of the kitchen.

"He was right to say it," Dawn says with a dismissive shake of her head. "I'm just not used to being an equal partner, I guess." She tries to give the camera a smile.

"I do hope he turns it down. I've seen what being a Wernham Hogg manager does to a person, haven't I? Not what I would call a good role model." She pauses. "In certain cases, not even what I'd call a person, really."

Tim appears at the door to their bedroom. Dawn is sitting up in bed, a magazine resting atop the swell of her belly.

"I called Neil," he says.

Dawn puts down the magazine. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I wasn't going to take the job," he says. He walks toward the bed. "And then I called Nancy and reminded her about putting me in touch with her teacher friend."

She looks up at him with an innocent expression. "I know it's really just because you didn't want to leave Slough," she says.

"It's true," Tim says. "After all, how could I ever give up going to Chasers with Gareth and Finch?"

"You couldn't," Dawn says, deadpan.

"So true."

They share a smile. Tim leans down and kisses Dawn gently on the lips. Then he straightens and looks toward the camera. "I think that's enough for today, don't you?" he says. "My wife and I are going to bed." The camera goes dark and the screen goes silent.

"And thus concludes the exciting adventures of an office cog slash aspiring teacher and a part-time children's books illustrator," Tim says. "Come see us again in three years when we'll have a toddler running around. I'm sure you'll find that endlessly fascinating as well. Nothing says entertainment for the masses like dirty diapers and temper tantrums.

"Me? I can't wait, mate. I can't wait."

End.


End file.
